Nightshade
by elodealeaf
Summary: Emison AU. Metropolis has a new thief in town—the elusive Nightshade. Emily Fields, a detective at the Metropolis Police Department, is tasked with the impossible job of catching the thief. The Nightshade might just enjoy that.
1. Chapter 1

The call came early in the morning, just like it always did lately. Emily answered the phone in a sleepy daze, barely managing to grab it before the call ended. She wasn't entirely sure whom she was speaking to—a rookie probably, they always got the worst shifts—but it didn't matter. The information was always the same, just in a new location. The Nightshade had struck again, this time at Metropolis's finest art museum, the Saco Gallery.

For a moment after the call ended, Emily lay in bed and watched the bright red numbers of her alarm clock turn from 5:38 to 5:39. Only then did she drag herself from the warmth of her blankets and stumble her way to the shower, all the while cursing the Nightshade and his love for early morning heists.

She arrived at the crime scene forty-five minutes later, holding a cup of coffee from an all-night diner around the block from her apartment. Since the Nightshade began stealing, she'd become sort of a regular customer. The coffee wasn't great, but it always beat what she could get at the precinct.

Three other police cars were at the scene, their red and blue lights flickering in the early morning light. When she started this job, she'd asked to keep a low profile—the Nightshade wasn't dangerous, just mischievous, and with the precinct in the limelight already, Emily didn't want to add to it. The city was in enough of an uproar about the thief without the media's help.

Emily pulled her coat tighter around her and ducked under the yellow crime tape, so focused on getting to the scene that she didn't notice a woman running toward her until she cried, "Detective Fields, wait!"

Emily shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. She didn't have time to waste; she needed to get into the building and start her investigation. By the time she turned around, the woman was in front of her. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool November air and she was desperately trying to appear like she wasn't out of breath from her sprint towards the detective. "I'm Alison DiLaurentis from the Metropolis Times." She stuck out her hand and gave Emily an award-winning smile.

Emily tried her hardest to not let it affect her, but despite her best efforts, her heart fluttered as she gave the woman a once over. With her perfect blonde curls and heart-shaped face, she could easily have been a model. Her bright blue blazer made her eyes pop, and it was all Emily could do to look away before she succumbed and let the blonde into the crime scene.

"No press allowed," she said, staring pointedly at the badge attached to the woman's hip. Alison let her hand drop to her side after a moment, but her smile stayed plastered to her face. When she realized Emily wasn't going to let her in, she looked surprised.

"No, there must be some mistake. I cleared it with Captain Ferlioli ten minutes ago." She fumbled to grab her phone; her brow furrowed as she swiped past the lock screen and showed Emily her call log. "I can call him back," she offered. "He can confirm everything I've said is true."

Emily sighed. Alison was nothing if not persistent, and she really didn't want to start trouble with the press; if her boss had said it was okay, who was she to deny the journalist? "Fine," she said. "I'll let it slide, but just this once."

Alison smiled. "Just this once, I promise."

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, come on then." She lifted the yellow tape and Alison ducked under. They made their way up the dozen steps to the front of the museum, Alison's heels clicking loudly on each step. Banners of the current exhibits flanked the sides of the staircases and Emily studied them, wondering if the Nightshade had waited for something in particular to come to the Saco Gallery before he broke in.

A policeman opened the door for them. Emily flashed her badge and the man waved her along, Alison in tow. Thankfully, the reporter didn't feel the need to make small talk as they made their way to the back of the museum. Emily watched Alison out of the corner of her eye, curious to see what she'd make of all this. The Nightshade was unlike any other thief she'd encountered. Most thieves stole because they needed something; as far as she could tell, the Nightshade stole because he thought it was fun.

As they drew closer to the crime scene, the quiet of the museum erupted into a cacophony of sounds; the echo of several radios bouncing off the marble walls, the scuffing of police-issued boots and the quiet murmuring of the officers on duty. Emily turned to Alison. "I need to speak with my colleagues. I'll find another officer to escort you from here."

Alison looked surprised. "Escort me to where, exactly?"

Emily ran a hand through her hair. Captain Ferlioli might have given this reporter permission to write an article on the break-in, but she couldn't wander around the crime scene without supervision. "Back outside," she said. "You want to talk to some officers, right? I can get a few to come here and talk to you, but then you'll have to leave."

Alison pursed her lips. "I thought I was going to stay with you."

Emily bit back a laugh. "Sorry, I don't think that's going to happen." She turned away, gesturing to the nearest police officer. "Toby, could you come over here?"

Alison crossed her arms. "I've been profiling the Nightshade for weeks. If I can tell you what was stolen, will you let me in?"

Emily frowned. "How do you know it was the Nightshade?"

For a split second, Alison looked panicked, like she didn't know what to say. But then she flipped her hair behind her and her calm demeanor was back. "Who else could steal from the Saco and get away with it?" When Emily said nothing, she added, "So if I guess correctly, will you let me join you?"

Toby was getting closer; Emily could easily wait it out and leave the reporter with him. However, Emily was curious, and the odds of Alison getting it correct were slim to none. "Sure."

Alison smirked. " _Garden at Sainte-Adresse_ by Claude Monet."

"What makes you say that?" Emily asked, her heart pounding. She hadn't expected the reporter to actually be right.

Alison gestured to the banners above them, advertising the exhibit ahead. "A Monet exhibit? The Saco was just asking to get robbed. It isn't Monet's most known work, but it's still popular." She shrugged. "Maybe the Nightshade took it for sentimental reasons. It has the same qualities as the other pieces the Nightshade has stolen."

Alison eyed Emily for a moment, taking in her noncommittal expression. "I'm right, aren't I?" Before Emily could respond, someone cleared their throat. Emily turned to face Toby. She wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"Good morning, Detective Fields. What can I do for you?" When he saw Alison's press badge, his posture became more rigid, but he said nothing on the matter. Alison, in turn, watched the police officer with a mixture of curiosity and something Emily could only describe as nervousness.

"I..." Emily began. Alison's eyes found hers, staring at her accusatorially. They both knew she was right. Emily sighed. A deal was a deal, even if she didn't like it. "Sorry, Toby, there was just a misunderstanding on my part. I'll show Ms. DiLaurentis around." Toby nodded. Emily was thankful he didn't press the matter. She waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to a rather smug looking Alison. "Come on, let's go."

"Thank you for keeping your word," Alison said, surprisingly sincere. "Being able to see a crime scene up close will really help bring authenticity to the piece."

"Don't mention it." Emily shrugged and tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash. They received a few odd looks as they stepped around the corner and into view of the empty frame, but Emily paid no attention to the other officers. As she stood in front of the wooden frame, everything else seemed to fade away. The Nightshade had left the placard for Garden at Sainte-Adresse along with the usual calling card—a branch full of the dark purple flowers that had given the thief his nickname. Emily read the information on the placard, but nothing jumped out at her. There were certainly more valuable paintings within the Monet exhibit.

Emily crouched down and scooped up the flowers, bringing them to her nose. The smell was always the same—a poignant sweetness with a subtly bitter undertone that made Emily both hate and love the flower. These days, she was leaning more towards hate.

"Can I see the flowers?" Alison asked, causing Emily to jump. She'd been so focused she hadn't noticed the reporter moving closer. She handed over the stem and Alison took them delicately, as if she were afraid to break them. She brought them to her nose just as Emily had done, albeit more cautiously.

Emily studied the reporter for a moment, contemplating her next move. "You said you've been profiling the Nightshade," she said thoughtfully. Alison nodded. "How long have you been studying him?"

Alison narrowed her eyes. "Long enough to know that the Nightshade is a woman."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that? There's nothing distinctly feminine about the Nightshade."

"Nothing about the thief is distinctly masculine, either." Alison crossed her arms, and Emily got the impression that she'd somehow insulted the reporter by assuming the Nightshade was a man. She started to apologize, but Alison waved her off. "It's a common mistake." Alison gave her a small smile. "Thank you for your time, Emily. I really appreciate it. I'm sure we'll cross paths again."

Emily blinked, and suddenly Alison was nowhere in sight. Emily turned toward the exit, confused. The blonde wasn't there, but Captain Ferioli was. Next to him stood a young man dressed in professional attire with a notepad in his hand. Ferioli gestured her over. "Detective Fields! Come meet our young reporter. I spoke with him this morning; he's agreed to cover all of our future stories about the Nightshade."

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but found herself speechless. She pressed her lips together and gave the reporter a smile that convinced absolutely no one. Alison had played her so well she hadn't even expected it. Emily stuffed her hands in her police jacket and pulled back in shock. The flowers. Alison never handed them back to her; instead, she'd put them in Emily's pocket. She pulled the flowers out and a card fluttered to the floor.

After a moment's hesitation, she picked it up. The text was a scrawling cursive, but the message itself was simple. _I'll give the painting back if you agree to do something for me. If you share this with anyone, the deal is off._ Her breath caught in her throat when she read the signature. Surely it was a joke. She put the card back into her pocket with a shaking hand. Why would the Nightshade need her help?


	2. Chapter 2

For the next week and a half, Metropolis's minor criminals were out in full swing, and Emily was so busy dealing with everything else that her early morning at the Saco Gallery felt more like a dream than reality. The only physical proof of that morning was the card Alison left for her.

Every night before Emily went to bed, she read the note over again, trying to make sense of everything that happened. She hadn't told anyone about her encounter with Alison—nobody had ever spoken with the Nightshade before, and this was a prime opportunity to learn more about the thief. Out of curiosity, she'd run Alison's name through the police database, but it came up empty, just as she thought it would. Alison was too smart to get caught. She wasn't even sure that Alison was the Nightshade's real name. It wouldn't surprise her, considering how secretive the Nightshade was. Some thieves seemed to enjoy the limelight just as much as the stealing, but Emily, who had studied the Nightshade's activities extensively, hadn't even known that the thief was female.

She wasn't entirely sure if making a deal with a thief of Alison's caliber was a good idea, but she was running out of options. Alison hadn't stolen anything else in the meantime, as if she were waiting for Emily's answer before she made her next move.

Two weeks after Alison stole the _Garden at Sainte-Andresse_ , another painting was stolen. This time, it was taken from an estate that bordered the city just enough for the Metropolis Police to claim jurisdiction. It took an hour to get there, and when Emily arrived at the scene, the atmosphere was grim. An ambulance was parked in front of the double-door entrance, but the paramedics sat on the steps. A coroner's van was parked next to the ambulance. The sight of a dead body wasn't anything new to Emily, but the outline of two body bags in the back of the van still made her feel sick to her stomach.

The owners of the estate were speaking with Toby when she stepped into the room, so she took the time to walk around as much of the room as she could. In front of the missing painting, a single nightshade lay on the ground. Emily picked it up and twirled it between her thumb and index finger, unwilling to believe what this meant. Alison was a criminal, but she wasn't violent. She couldn't have done this.

In all of her research, she'd never encountered anything that indicated otherwise. Alison was so successful because she relied on her ability to be stealthy and spent an extensive amount of time planning. Sheer strength could only go so far, and it looked like this robbery had gone very, very wrong. If the flower hadn't been placed against the wall, Alison wouldn't have even crossed Emily's mind.

She glanced around. The other police officers were by the door, where the bodies were found. Nobody was paying attention to her. Before she could think of the repercussions, she pocketed the flower. There was no going back now.

It took them hours to finish processing the crime scene. Emily couldn't do much once she'd spoken with the owners regarding the stolen art, but she couldn't leave, either. She'd been promised a list of all of the art in the gallery, but that had been hours ago. All the while, the nightshade felt like it was burning a hole through her jacket. The more she thought about what she'd done, the more she began to regret her impulsive decision. She'd put her career on the line for a hunch that could very well be wrong. And it wasn't like she could just put the flower back on the ground. Every few minutes, she put her hand in her pocket and felt for the flower, worried that it might have fallen out.

But as the police combed through the rest of the crime scene, Emily realized that she was right. Nothing other than the flower hinted that this was the Nightshade's work. There were plenty of art thieves, and some did have a violent streak. Anybody could find a flower and put it next to the missing art.

By the time she made it home that night she was rightfully exhausted. They hadn't made much progress on the double homicide, but at least they were getting somewhere. A few strands of hair and a fingerprint were found by the window, and both were sent away for testing. Emily had started to compile a list of all known thieves that had committed violent crimes in the past, but the list was much too long for her liking.

Her apartment was on the thirty-first floor, and by the time the elevator opened in front of her apartment, Emily could barely keep her eyes open. It wasn't until she unlocked her door and stepped into her dark apartment that she sensed something was off. Out of habit, she felt for the gun attached to her hip. She drew it out slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. If someone was in her apartment, they already knew she was there, but they might not be able to see the gun and she needed that element of surprise.

As she glanced around the apartment, everything seemed to be in order. After a moment, she sighed and flicked on the lights. She was always jumpy after a homicide, and all of these early morning phone calls had really messed with her daily routine. She was probably just oversensitive. She set her gun down on the counter and turned toward the living room.

Her apartment was high enough to have a good view of the city, and on nights like this she just wanted to curl up in her favorite armchair and drink tea while watching the nightlife below her.

She really shouldn't have been surprised to see Alison, but when she stepped into the room and saw the blonde, Emily jumped and let out something that sounded enough like a squeak for Emily to be embarrassed. Alison was perched on the chair closest to the window and when she saw Emily, she gave her what was quickly becoming her signature smirk. This time, though, something about it felt off.

When Emily's heartbeat returned to normal, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

Alison stood up but didn't move any closer. "You should really consider a different lock on your door. Anyone could break in with the one you have."

"I'll look into getting a new one." Emily crossed her arms. "Now answer my question."

"I heard about the double homicide. Were you there today?"

Emily bit her lip as she contemplated what to say. She wasn't supposed to discuss police business with civilians, but Alison probably already knew the answer. Finally, she said, "Yes. I got called in because a painting was stolen."

Alison shifted, and suddenly her demeanor changed. Instead of the cool and confident aura Emily was used to, Alison looked small and scared. The light from the kitchen illuminated her face, exaggerating her strong jaw line and revealing the bags under her eyes that the makeup didn't quite hide. "Was there anything unusual about it?"

"By unusual, do you mean the flower I found in front of the empty frame?"

Alison took a step back, horror written upon her face. "I didn't do it!"

"I didn't say you did." Alison said nothing, only continued to stare at her. Emily pulled the flower from her pocket and showed it to the thief. "I took it before anyone could see it."

"I…" Alison frowned. "I didn't think it would be that easy to get you to help me."

Emily shook her head. "This isn't me agreeing to help you."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." Emily pressed a hand to her temple. All she wanted to do was sleep. "Look, in no way is it acceptable for a member of the police force to help a known criminal. I could go to prison. We both would, if they caught us together."

Alison pressed her lips together. "Then it's a good thing I've never been caught. Please, Emily, I need your help."

"Why me?"

Alison took in a shaky breath. "Because I can trust you to do the right thing. You're one of the few cops that haven't been corrupted. I'm being set up and we both know it."

"What do you mean all the cops are corrupt?" Emily asked. She brought a hand to her temple, wincing; this discussion certainly wasn't helping to quell her headache. She settled onto the couch opposite the room of Alison. The blonde mirrored her actions, sitting back down on the love seat. "Everyone at the Metropolis Police Department has the same job, to protect—"

Alison rolled her eyes. "To protect and serve. Yeah right. Just because it's your department's motto doesn't mean it's also their way of life."

Emily shifted in her seat, agitated by Alison's blatant dismissal of the words she'd heard every day since she started at the police academy. "So what makes me so different? I spend over forty hours a week with those officers. How are you so sure that you can trust me? I could arrest you right now and be done with all of this."

"Go ahead." Alison held out her wrists, looking imploringly at Emily. When Emily did nothing, Alison smirked and put her hands back on her lap. "If you wanted to arrest me, you would have done so when you first figured out who I was. Of course, you wouldn't get _Garden at Sainte-Adresse_ back that way." Emily glared at her. "You're different because you're not directly affiliated with the Metropolis Police Department. You may work in tandem with them, but the FBI trained you. You hold yourself to a different standard then those officers do. You don't take bribes."

Emily folded her arms across her chest, feeling rather uncomfortable. "How do you know so much about me?" Alison quirked an eyebrow, as if she was surprised that Emily didn't already know the answer. "You read my file," Emily realized. "Of course you did."

Alison shrugged, none too perturbed by her intentional invasion of privacy. Emily had been under the impression that her file had been at least slightly difficult to steal, but then again Alison broke into art museums on a regular basis. She could probably steal a file in her sleep. Emily wanted Alison to say something—anything, really—but the blonde remained silent, as if she wanted Emily to figure else what else she'd gotten into. She sucked in a breath as she replayed the blonde's last statement. You don't take bribes. "You read the article in the Metropolis Times." She didn't need to specify her statement. There was only one story that really mattered.

Alison nodded, for once looking remorseful about something other then herself. "I'm sorry about—" Her voice was too kind, too sincere. Emily couldn't handle the thief talking about such an intimate subject.

"Thank you for your condolences, but I'm fine," she interrupted. "It's been two years."

"I know," Alison said. She gave Emily a small smile, but her eyes couldn't hide her lingering sadness.

Emily cleared her throat, determined to get back on subject. "So if you've read my file, then you know I don't normally deal with homicides. I'm paid to recover art."

"And that's what you'll be doing. I'm not asking you to solve a murder. This person, whoever they are, is another art thief. I'm not sure why, but they have a vendetta against me. I can't solve this on my own, but together we can."

"You know just as well as I do that this isn't your average criminal. This person is dangerous." She pressed a palm to her head. Her vision swam, and for a moment she was sure she was going to pass out.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and hoped that the world would stop spinning. Between one breath and the next, Alison was in front of her. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "Do you need me to get you something?"

Emily opened her eyes. Two Alison's swayed in front of her, but when she blinked there was only one. Alison crouched in front of her, and when she saw that Emily was watching her, she laid a hand on Emily's knee and squeezed gently.

"I think I'm okay now," Emily lied. Alison pursed her lips but said nothing. When she drew her hand away, Emily found that she missed the contact.

Alison stood up, and Emily thought the thief was going to leave. She opened her mouth to protest—they were nowhere near done with this conversation—but Alison flashed her a concerned look and pressed a warm hand to Emily's head. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever," she murmured after a while. "Let me at least get you a glass of water."

In the time it took Alison to get a glass of water and two pills that she assured Emily were ibuprofen, Emily was able to collect herself. She couldn't let Alison get to her. She'd made plenty of stupid mistakes in her lifetime, but befriending a member of the Metropolis Police Department's most wanted was pushing the limit. Emily took the pills and water, but when Alison laid a hand on Emily's arm, Emily brushed her away.

"Look, it's getting late and I haven't been getting much sleep lately," she began. "Let's finish this conversation so I can go to bed." She desperately wanted to skip out on the rest of their discussion, but she knew that time was a huge factor. If they didn't finish now and something happened tomorrow, then it would be entirely her fault.

Alison took her comment in stride. "You're right." She eyed the seat next to Emily for a moment, but eventually she turned and settled back onto her couch by the window. "So what will it be? I've asked you twice now for help and you haven't given me a straight answer." Alison leaned forward, her elbows balancing precariously on her knees. "I don't want to rush you, but we're running out of time."

"I know," Emily sighed.

"You saw what happened today. This person isn't going to let anyone stop them from stealing what they want. You know as well as I do that things are only going to get much worse from here."

"You sound awfully concerned for the safety of Metropolis."

Alison studied her thoughtfully. "Do you really think this person is going to stop once they get to me? Their attention is focused on me right now, but I can guarantee I won't be the last person they go after."

"You keep saying you can trust me, but how do I know I can trust you?"

"I promised that you could have the painting back, didn't I?"

"I need to be certain I can trust you. That painting is very expensive. How do I know that once this is all over, you won't just run away with the artwork?"

Alison waved dismissively at her. "If you're so concerned about it, you can have it. This isn't the first Monet I've stolen." Emily raised an eyebrow, but Alison ignored her inquisitive look. "So, do we have a deal?"

Emily nodded.


End file.
